


(The) Calling

by norwaysalmon



Series: If We Were Good [1]
Category: True Detective
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 15:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4527792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norwaysalmon/pseuds/norwaysalmon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He deserved to die."</p>
            </blockquote>





	(The) Calling

**Author's Note:**

> This is written after I watched the second episode. unbeta'd

 

 

The caller ID was unknown but it was a number with which Frank was quite familiar. He’d been waiting for this call.

“Velcoro?”

“I need a favor.”

“Huh.”

“... Now. You have to...”

“Yes?”

“I killed a man.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“I need your help… The body… You owe me this.”

“Listen, Ray. I don’t own you anything. You owe me. You owed me when you took that picture and you owe me now.”

“We have to take care of the body.”

“You owe me again.”

 

Frank drove alone, making sure no one followed him. He rushed to the end of pipeline where factories leaked chemicals into the land. Under the grotesque concrete pipe, Ray stood. Frank approached. As he did so, he could see the liquid on Ray’s fists which seemed to have streamed down from the pipe.

 

“Semyon.” Ray’s voice was low and harsh as if the liquid got stuck in his throat. 

“Just Frank.” He took out a nicely folded handkerchief from this pocket, tapping on his own forehead. “Come,” he knelt down and attempted to scrutinize the thing laid before him. “Let’s get started.”

Raymond stayed still.

“Ray, come on, I am just here to ‘help’ you.” If it had not been this dark, Frank would have been tempted to make an air quote gesture.

“Ray!”

 

In the back of Frank’s car, there were a suitcase and a blanket. He was well-prepared. Frank looked at the thing on the ground again. He couldn’t help. He didn’t want to look at it and he did. When that thing had been a man, Frank wouldn’t have even looked at him twice. But now it was just a cluster of protein or whatsoever, it was fascinating in a ineffably horrid way. It was not until Frank got the blanket and suitcase from the car, did Velcoro start to move again. Frank was just beginning to worry that he had to deal with more than one body. He laid the blanket near the thing and waited.

“Fuck. I need to drink something.”

“Clean your shit like a man first.” Frank wanted to shout at him because this was what Velcoro had to do on his own. He had to change. Frank lowered himself, gripping the fabric in his hand. Under his stare, Velcoro moved that thing on the blanket. The face was all blurry with blood now. He felt something sour rushing up from his stomach. Velcoro didn’t just kill him with his bare hands. It was obviously not the case.

“Where is it?”

“What?”

“The murder weapon. We can’t leave any evidence.”

A piece of metal was thrown at what used to be the chest of that man. It was brass knucckles.

“I got carried away.” He was not comfortable with this. Frank had expected him to scratch his head but he didn’t. 

 

The suitcase rolled over uneven ground. It went up and down. Its wheels could barely pass over the small stones on the ground. Velcoro wiped away the blood stained on his hands and took off his shirt, putting it between his own palm and the handle of the suitcase. Frank said no trace could be left. It was a short distance to Frank’s car but it seemed to stretch itself because of the weight of the suitcase. Frank awaited him.

 

“Now what?”

“Now what? Haven’t you thought about it before you did it?”

“I guess I got carried away.”

Velcoro curled his lip. He knew nothing. Fuck this world. He reached out to open the car door.

 

“Take off your pants as well.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me there is no blood on it.”

Frank looked irritated and sure of himself at the same time. Velcoro did what he was told. He had decided that this Semyon knew better.

 

And Frank did. He knew where they should go. 

No one was talking but Velcoro fingers tapped on the suitcase in the backseat. He was new to this but calmed himself down. Frank examined him from the rearview mirror, wondering if he ever thought of the price for this. Not just today but every day and every night from this moment on, Velcoro had to pay the price. He became Frank’s private police officer. Frank definitely could use someone like him. 

 

They arrived in front of an abandoned garage. Velcoro didn’t ask where they were so Frank said nothing. A large wooden work-bench was waiting inside. On top of it were plastic cloth and a saw. Frank didn’t need to explain anything.

“I will start a fire first.”

Velcoro nodded at him and took out the thing. He was holding the saw in the air. Frank gave him a glass of bourbon. 

“Drink it.” He was standing behind Velcoro, almost whispering to his ears. The fire flickered weakly.

Velcoro shook his head and felt the alcohol coming from Frank’s breath. The first cut was hard. He had to use both hands. Weird sounds came from the work-bench. Velcoro frowned and Frank approached with more alcohol. Frank’s empty hand came to the saw. Velcoro turned to him with difficulty. 

“I killed that man.”

“He deserved to die.”

 

They finished what they had started. A piece after a piece went into the fire. Velcoro finally took that glass of bourbon. The amber liquid disappeared in the blink of an eye. 

“Fuck.”

“I know.”

“I need to rest.”

“You do.”

Velcoro threw his clothe into the fire. They watched it burn. Frank took out his handkerchief once again and this time he wiped the sweat from Velcoro’s face.

“Go home and take some rest.”

 


End file.
